What Happens in Vegas
by Emi-Lynn
Summary: A jaded CIA agent and a NCIS computer geek make an unlikely pair when a blown OP leaves them on the run and cut off from help.  Complete, will post a chapter a day.  New rating.
1. Chapter 1

**a/n - One of the nice things about participating in the annual SeSa is that sometimes you get to play out of your "box" and it really works. This was one of those years for me with both stories I did. This is finished, 13 chapters, and I'll post a chapter a day until it's all up. Enjoy.**

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><p>What Happens in Vegas...<p>

McGee ducked as a bullet ricocheted over his head and hot metal splattered down his neck. "Damn it, Kort, why is it that every time we have a joint op, there's a dirty CIA agent in the mix?"

"How do you know it was my guy?" Even as he changed magazines, Kort knew the leak hadn't come from any of Gibbs' people. "Don't suppose you've gotten a signal yet?"

Rolling his eyes, McGee didn't even bother to respond as he shifted to the left, hoping for a better angle. It worked and one of their attackers went down just as another car arrived. Now seriously outnumbered, the two men decided to risk making a run for it. Tim scooped up the laptop bag as Kort laid down enough firepower to slow down their pursuers. They made it out the back door of the warehouse just as their car exploded.

"Crap, come on." Between the burning car and the two groups of gunmen, there was only one way out, a narrow passage between a row of abandoned box cars and the solid steel wall of the warehouse. Knowing it was a trap, they had no choice but to go for it. Tim spotted the tripwire first and they carefully stepped over it and the next two before they reached the end. Before they stepped out into the open again, Kort picked up a large rock and tossed it back at the first tripwire. The resulting explosion set off the other two bombs but they were through the opening and crawling through a gap in the fence before the debris stopped falling.

"There." Kort pointed as he changed direction, never slowing down.

Tim's eyes widened as he realized the new plan. "You've got to be kidding me." Even as he voiced his objections, he angled towards the new destination.

Kort was determined to not show any weakness in front of the younger man and picked up the pace as he forced his words out. "What, you never wanted to play hobo when you were a kid?"

"Not really."

The train was picking up speed as it was leaving the yard. Kort reached the open box car first, grabbing the edge of the door and swinging himself up. McGee was a few seconds behind him and tossed the case into the empty car first before following Kort's example. Kort grabbed his arm and hauled him in the rest of the way before McGee retrieved his bag. Not only did it carry their evidence, but the emergency supplies Gibbs insisted he bring, and he had a sneaking hunch he was going to need them.

From the open door, they watched as one of their pursuers attempted the same maneuver further back on the train, but slipped and fell, his scream cut short as the heavy metal wheel ended his chase.

Twenty minutes later, they were well into the countryside. Tim shook his head, pulling out his phone. "We can't stay on here, it won't take them long to figure out where this train is going."

"No, don't." Kort latched onto his wrist before he could check for a signal.

"My team is not dirty."

"Yeah, but if mine is, I guarantee you they've already hacked into Gibbs' phone, the rest of your team's, too."

"Damn it." Realizing that they were probably already tracing the GPS on his and Kort's phones, McGee pulled the battery cover off in order to remove the chip, but Kort shook his head.

"I've got a better idea."

Tim looked up and saw that another train was approaching on the adjacent track, immediately realizing what Kort had in mind.. Without explaining what he was doing, Tim's fingers were nothing but a blur as he typed in a series of commands as the other train came closer. He quickly replaced the battery cover and handed the phone over to Kort who carefully lobbed both their phones into a passing box car. An hour later Kort tugged on McGee's sleeve and they jumped from the train as it prepared to enter a freight yard, randomly picking another box car to ride.

-NCIS-

"Find them." The gravelly voice of Petar Cvetko always brought fear to his underlings, even over the phone. Glancing around he quickly ran a trace on Kort's phone and sent the current location to Cvetko before carefully erasing his search.

-NCIS-

"Damn it, Hicks, they've missed their check-in."

"You know Kort, he always has his own timetable." Smirking, Ryan Hicks leaned back and set his feet on McGee's desk, kicking the keyboard out of his way. He didn't have a chance to get comfortable before Gibbs knocked his feet back onto the floor.

"Not when he's got my man with him. McGee doesn't miss deadlines. Check it again."

Hicks checked for the signal, finding no sign either man had attempted to link up with the computers at NCIS. He called his counterpart at the CIA and received the same answer.

When Gibbs saw Hicks shake his head, he turned his attention to DiNozzo and David as they intensified their search, while Abby attempted to track their missing man's cell phone. Two hours late was way too long and his gut was churning.

-NCIS-

Two silent sentries watched as the train slowed and eventually stopped at a siding before a sniper took out the three crew members in the lead engine. The crewmen in the caboose were dispatched just as quickly. Given the all-clear, the rest of the men searched the box cars, their heavily accented voices low and fast as they only found two abandoned cell phones.

-NCIS-

"I have something, Boss." Tony had barely hung up the phone before he was up on his feet. "What's left of their car's been found at the scene of an explosion and apparent gun fight. Local LEO's have the site secured and state troopers are on their way."

"Casualties?" Gibbs was already heading for the parking lot, still shoving his SIG into his holster.

"Several, they are still looking."

It was a tense drive to the abandoned factory just outside of Culpeper. The fact that Gibbs handed the keys to Ziva told how worried he was. DiNozzo and Hicks just hung on for the ride.

The trooper at the gate raised an eyebrow when they pulled in. "Thought you folks were driving out from DC? Weren't expecting you for a while, yet."

Gibbs ignored the question. "Where are the bodies?" The older man didn't relax until he was staring at the last of the unfamiliar faces. Tony was leaning over his shoulder.

"If they didn't use the car, how'd they get away from here?"

"Over here." Ziva's call brought Gibbs and DiNozzo quickly as Hicks lagged behind. Scuffs and a scrap of torn fabric caught in the bent chain link showed a likely escape route. Gibbs scrambled through first and led the rest of them as he followed the faint trail.

With Gibbs and Ziva bent over, looking at the multiple spots of disturbed gravel, it was Tony that first spotted the remains on the tracks. "Umm, guys..."

Gibbs ordered the rest of them to stay put while he approached the body. It was a testament to how stunned Tony and Ziva were that they didn't argue with him. He stopped at the severed legs first, struggling to remember if he'd ever seen McGee wearing the expensive Italian shoes. Finally, taking a deep breath, he moved to the mangled body. Everything from the shoulders up was destroyed beyond recognition, so Gibbs forced himself to focus on the torso. He'd never been so grateful that his boy had been serious about losing weight as when he stared at the thick waist. "It's not McGee."

Relieved, Tony and Ziva joined him, Hicks a moment later. "Boss, is it Kort?"

At Tony's question, Gibbs gave the body a second look. "I'm not sure."

Ziva pulled out her phone to let Abby know that none of the bodies were their teammate, only to discover that she had no signal. One of the State Troopers came up behind her. "This is a dead zone, I'm afraid. You'll have to get back on the main road about a quarter of a mile before you'll get anything."

Gibbs looked over at Tony, seeing the same realization on his face. If the meet had been set up where McGee and Kort could not call for help, chances were their covers had been blown. Somehow their stolen handguns case had gotten a lot more complicated.

-NCIS-

Petar Cvetko glared at his men. "Find them. I don't care if you have to track down every freight train within five hundred miles of here. I want them found, I want my codes back and then I want them dead."


	2. Chapter 2

True to the trooper's words, they had been back on the main road for only a few seconds when their phones picked up a signal and Gibbs' phone instantly began to ring. He didn't have time to say anything before Abby started shrieking at him.

_Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, I've got a location on McGee's phone._

She sent the coordinates to their GPS and they had to groan. The signal from McGee's phone was coming from southern Pennsylvania. Even with Ziva driving, it was a good two hours away.

-NCIS-

By nightfall Kort and McGee were on their third train. "Do you have any idea where we are?"

The CIA agent thought about it for a moment as they passed the small water bottle back and forth. "The first train was headed south, but I think we've been mostly west since then."

"How long do we ride? We need a plan" Tim looked out, still trying to find any landmarks he recognized.

Kort stretched out in the one corner that was out of view of the open doors and was slightly padded with some abandoned cardboard. "Since we're in the middle of nowhere and making good time, I suggest we get some rest while we can, figure it out when it's light." He patted the space next to him. "Come on, it's going to get cold."

-NCIS-

"Agent Gibbs, look." Hicks pointed through the trees as they slowly drove down the dirt road, coming closer to the location Abby claimed held McGee's missing phone.

Squinting in the fading light, Gibbs could just make out the back end of a caboose. "Good call. Everybody, stay alert." Gibbs parked the car and they carefully moved closer, not knowing what to expect.

Ziva and Hicks stood watch while Gibbs and DiNozzo climbed the short ladder to the caboose. Two crewmen were found dead in their bunks, each with a shot to the heart, the third had apparently been surprised coming out of the small bathroom. DiNozzo shook his head as he looked around. "Damn, what did they get themselves into, Boss?"

"I don't know." Gibbs also looked troubled as he looked around the small space. "This was done by pros, not the petty criminals we thought we were after."

"The CIA wasn't straight with us?"

"Ya think, DiNozzo?"

Silently, the four of them continued to search the train, finding the rest of the bodies when they reached the front. Ziva looked at the bodies before looking at the surrounding area. "Probably a sniper up on that ridge."

"Umm, Boss, found the phones." DiNozzo's strained voice drew them to the fifth box car in the train where he was standing over McGee's phone, Kort's cell phone less than a dozen feet away. "Does this mean they've been taken hostage?"

"Until we recover bodies, we assume they're still alive. Start printing this train; I want to know who we're really up against. Hicks, start talking. What haven't we been told?"

Hicks looked around, not making eye contact with any of them. "I don't know, Agent Gibbs. I'm just as much in the dark as you are."

Gibbs didn't look convinced. "If I find out otherwise..." Frustrated, he stormed off to call in reinforcements.

-NCIS-

It was pitch black when Kort woke, carefully studying his situation to determine what had disturbed his sleep. It was a few moments, but he felt a shiver from the other man. Kicking himself, he remembered that McGee had left his overcoat in the car in order to move easier with the laptop case. With a sigh, he pulled off his own overcoat and draped it over both of them, scooting closer as he did.

-NCIS-

At daybreak Gibbs was grateful to see the chopper that Vance sent for them. It wasn't that he was too tired to drive back, rather he didn't want the extra delay in getting the evidence back to Abby. She was waiting for them in her lab, machines at the ready.

"Okay, everybody just stay out of my way while I figure out..." She bit back a sob. "I'm going to find out who took our Timmy so you guys can go get him back. Now, get out of here and let me work." Gibbs kissed her on the cheek before going upstairs to report to Vance.

-NCIS-

Confused, Tim didn't move when he first woke. He was warm, surprisingly so, considering the circumstances. He'd fallen asleep on a cold, hard surface, the old cardboard a weak insulation against the metal box car floor. The movement and vibration told him he was still on the train, but whatever was under his cheek was soft – and breathing. Now wide awake, he jerked upward, only to have a hand on the back of his head stop him.

"Kort?"

"Yeah, kid, take it easy."

In the dim light, McGee could just make out his surroundings. They were still in the box car, but he was pressed against Kort, with the other man's topcoat draped over the both of them. The hand pressed against his head again. "We're nowhere near civilization and still moving, so we might as well rest." Once McGee settled back down, Kort closed his eyes and willed his body to ignore the soft puffs of air as McGee breathed against him.

-NCIS-

Once all the fingerprints were scanned in and running through the database, Abby turned her attention to McGee's phone. She carefully took the electronic device out of the evidence bag. Only Tim's and Kort's fingerprints had been found on it and she wasn't sure how she felt about that. On one hand, it meant that some animal hadn't taken the phone off her friend's dead body, but on the other hand, she couldn't imagine him giving up his phone willingly.

Refusing to give into the fear, she activated the touchscreen and punched in the code to unlock the phone. The familiar picture of the team stared back at her and she smiled before scrolling down to find his call log. Her smile faded as her fingers sped up, looking for anything.


	3. Chapter 3

**a/n - Glad I've caught your attention with this one, it was a lot of fun to write. Will it be slash? If's it published under this profile instead of my main on, then you can figure that it's either slash, hardcore het or some other very rough topic, so yes, this will be mild slash - eventually.**

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><p>"We're slowing down."<p>

Kort shifted closer to the door to take a look. "Yeah, looks like we're coming up to a freight yard, but I don't see any sign of a town anywhere around here."

Judging from the flat land and the time they'd been on the train, McGee suspected that they were someplace in the mid-west. The only thing worse than remaining on a train would be wandering around in a corn field for hours. "Stay or get off?"

"Well, we sure don't want to get caught by some hick sheriff and I'm not in the mood to walk twenty miles to find a town." Kort sat up and pulled his coat back on as McGee slipped the laptop bag back over his neck.

"Another train? Hopefully we'll end up in a city big enough to stay hidden until we can get word to Gibbs."

In the early morning light the two men jumped from the slowing train, staying close to the track as to not be seen until the last car passed them and they were able to scramble away. Another train was picking up speed and that was their new destination. As they'd done before, Kort was the first to jump, then he quickly turned to make sure McGee safely made the jump,weighted down with the bag he carried.

Just as he hauled McGee up into the car, Kort saw movement behind him in the shadowy car. Before he could turn, he was jumped, feeling a sharp pain in his back. He went down hard, taking McGee with him. He was vaguely aware of the thud as McGee's head hit the side of the open door, but their attacker was his first priority. Barely taking the time to register the appearance of the wild-eyed transient, he kicked the knife out of his hand before pulling the unconscious NCIS agent away from the open door. When the rail bum charged at them again, Kort didn't hesitate to snap his neck.

Adrenaline spent, Kort dropped to his knees. He reached under his coat to press on the painful spot and his hand came away covered in blood. Cursing at his luck, Kort dug around to find the knife, using it to cut away his undershirt for a makeshift bandage to stop the bleeding. Once that was accomplished, he turned his attention to McGee.

"Crap, kid, can you hear me?" Tapping on his face only produced a low moan. "Come on, McGee, don't do this to me. Gibbs will kill me if I bring you back broken." There was another groan, then Tim went still.

-NCIS-

"What have you got, Abs?" Gibbs arrived in the lab, the team and Hicks on his heels. She frowned at the sight of the eager CIA agent, and started giving her report as her hand casually moved, tapping against the table. "None of the fingerprints you found on the train belong to either McGee or Kort. I only found their fingerprints on the phones."

"That does not make sense, Abby. Surely they must have touched something."

Tony had been the one to fingerprint most of the box car, with little help from Hicks, so he answered Ziva's question. "Old wood and rusted metal aren't real good for lifting prints. Most of what we got were smudges. Were there any other prints on the phones?"

"Nope. Kort's phone only had his prints on it, and McGee's had both his and Kort's fingerprints." Abby put the pictures of the phones up for all of them to see, the recovered prints color coded to identify the source.

Gibbs studied the locations of Kort's fingerprints on McGee's phone, nodding as he changed the subject. "Have you identified any of the other prints?"

"Nothing in AFIS, I'm still running them through Interpol. Now, the shooting victims," She paused, struggling with the fear that her friend was being held by such ruthless suspects. "The ones killed in the caboose were all shot close range with a 9 mil, consistent with the casings you found. The victims in the engine were all shot with a high powered rifle. There guys are pros, Gibbs."

"Yeah, I know, Abs." Gibbs glanced down at her hand before giving her a slight nod that her message had been received before kissing her cheek and herding the rest of them out the door.

-NCIS-

Cursing, Kort dragged McGee further away from the open door before checking him more closely. Luckily, his pupils were still reacting to light, even if one was a bit sluggish. Kort next turned his attention to the dead body. Distasteful as it was, he dug through the man's pockets, pulling out an old battered wallet and a large amount of change. Not wanting to be found with an obviously murdered corpse, Kort rolled him to the door. The train was still in a desolate area, and when they crossed a bridge, he pushed the body out the door, letting it fall into the water below. With any luck, the current would carry it far away from the tracks before it was discovered. Exhausted, Kort looked through the supplies the hobo had stacked in the corner. They'd been rationing the water McGee had been carrying, but it was almost gone, so he was relieved to find several water bottles amongst the cans and cartons.

-NCIS-

Announcing that he was going for coffee and that they'd better have something when he got back, Gibbs stormed out of the squad room. Instead of getting off the elevator at the main floor, he continued on down to Abby's lab. She didn't say anything when he arrived, just turned her music up even louder and walked into the office. Gibbs was also silent as he followed her, waiting until she closed and locked her office door, the heavy glass cutting off the sound. As soon as the door sealed, she ran a scanner over him, looking for hidden listening devices.

Gibbs watched all this with a raised eyebrow. "Okay, Abs, tell me the rest. What is going on?"

Rather than speak, she handed him McGee's phone. He fumbled with the unfamiliar touchscreen until she got impatient and took it back. Gibbs watched as she pulled up Tim's call log, his text messages, even his address book, all were empty. "He wiped his phone, Gibbs. Even the pictures his sister just sent him from Florida."

"Protecting the people he cares about, in case it fell into the wrong hands."

Abby nodded and took a deep breath. "He started writing apps for phones a while ago."

"Apps?"

"Applications, programs and things the phone could do. He showed me one last week that he was working on. It partitioned the memory on the phone so something could be hidden, like a message." Abby messed with the phone a few more seconds and handed it over to Gibbs. Squinting, he read the brief message.

_Been made, double xx-ed._

_Way bigger than told. Suspects – E. European accents._

_Going underground, will contact when safe. _

_Kort doesn't trust his team. Ours bugged?_

_Will Vance reimburse for tossed phone?_

"Damn it." Gibbs glanced around the small office as Abby took back the phone.

"I swept, my office is clear, but I found a bug in the lab."

He nodded, that explained the loud music, even by Abby's standards. "Can you trace it without attracting attention?"

"It'll take a little longer."

She looked scared for her friend and Gibbs tugged her close, kissing her cheek before whispering in her ear. "It's going to be okay, Abby."

"He's not trained for stuff like this, Gibbs."

"McGee's smart, and Kort is street savvy. Kort will keep him safe until they can surface."

"You promise?"

Gibbs leaned back, letting go. "Hey, Kort knows I'll kick his ass if something happens to McGee. He'll be all right."

Abby didn't look entirely convinced as she slipped a scanner to Gibbs. "So, what do we do? There has to be something we can do to help them."

"We give McGee and Kort time to get to safety." Gibbs glared out at the empty lab for a second, wondering who had betrayed them. "Then, we find out who's dirty."

-NCIS-

Kort wanted to laugh as he looked through the bag McGee had been dragging around with him. The CIA agent had wondered why a full sized messenger bag for such a small netbook, but now he saw that the rest of the bag was filled with other supplies. In addition to the bottles of water and energy bars they had been nursing was a basic first aid kit and a variety of supplies, some he only vaguely recognized. Hidden in the strap was a rather lethal looking knife and several electronics that he didn't recognize at all.

"Remind me not to piss you off, kid."

-NCIS-

Gibbs slipped the scanner in his shirt and grabbed an empty coffee cup from the trash before strolling back into the squad room. "You got anything for me yet?" He knew they couldn't, so after a few seconds of listening to reports of BOLO's issued, he threw the used cup in his trash can, picked up a random file from his desk and glared at his own agents plus the CIA agent that was currently at McGee's desk. "While you three numskulls figure out why these gun runners kidnapped our agents, I have to explain the extra man-hours to Vance."

Holding the file to cover the slight bulge in his shirt, Gibbs looked over at Tony, then Ziva, telling them with a slight shift of his eye to play along before he turned his attention back to Hicks. "Move to one of the empty desks, Hicks. We don't use the desk of a missing agent around here."

Hicks had an odd expression on his face, but he obediently stood up and moved away from the desk as Gibbs watched his hands closely. "Umm, okay, is that desk all right?" He pointed to an empty cubicle around the corner.

Gibbs didn't want him able to do anything without the team's knowledge and waved his hand towards another desk. "No, that one." He waited a minute for Hicks to settle before barking out his next order. "DiNozzo, take McGee's computer down to Abby."

Tony played along, immediately moving to McGee's desk while Hicks looked up, startled. "If he and Kort were kidnapped, why go through his computer?"

"Agency policy, anytime an agent goes missing, they have to be investigated. Hell, for all we know, McGee might have killed Kort and their contact and stolen the handguns for himself."

"The geek?" Hicks started to laugh.

"Hey." Tony looked up from his task of undoing the wires from the computer tower. "DiNozzo's rule number seventeen: never underestimate a geek."

The first part of his plan in motion, Gibbs headed for the elevator, glaring at another agent, who promptly took the stairs. Once inside, he hit the emergency stop and went to work.


	4. Chapter 4

Director Vance looked up when his door flew open and Gibbs stormed in.

Gibbs opened the file and slammed it down on the desk as he started to rant. "Damn it, Vance, you expect us to keep track of all of our man-hours when we've got an agent missing?"

Quickly scanning the handwritten note about the dirty agent and the bug in the lab, Vance kept up his side of the pseudo-argument as Gibbs walked the room with the scanner. Once the bug was found and pointed out, the two men continued the argument out the door and down into one of the lesser used conference rooms. This one scanned clear and Gibbs quickly brought the Director up to date.

-NCIS-

"Abby? Abs? ABBY?" The third yell was finally loud enough to be heard over the music and she looked up to see Tony standing there with a computer tower. She pointed and turned to her office, not waiting to see if he was following her. Once inside, she quickly scanned Tony, whose eyes widened at her reaction, before carefully running the scanner over the computer. When the needle swung across the gauge, he bit back a curse.

Abby mimed instructions to him and he took the computer back out into the lab, then returned to the office, waiting for her. She locked the office before finally speaking. "We're clear in here."

"Who's bugging us? What is going on? What has Kort gotten McGee into?"

Knowing how worried he was about his friend, Abby took a deep breath and started explaining.

-NCIS-

"McGee? McGee? Tim? Come on, kid, I need you to wake up." Eventually the gentle slaps to the face brought a groan and the green eyes fluttered open.

"B'ss?"

"No, kid, it's Trent Kort. Remember?"

"Weap'n smuggl'n?"

"Yeah, that's right." He tapped McGee's cheek as his eyes started to drift close again. "Come on, stay with me. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Trip... tripwire." Energy spent, McGee lost the fight to stay conscious and Kort sat back, rubbing his face. This was not good, not good at all.

-NCIS-

His own scanner tucked away,Tony returned to their floor, wondering how he was going to talk to Ziva without raising suspicions. The opportunity presented itself when he saw Ziva walk into the ladies room. It had been a standing joke among the agents aboard the Yard that he would, one day, turn the tables on her. Because of that, his arrival in the ladies room was met by laughter as the other occupants scattered, leaving them to whisper in peace after clearing the room for bugs.

-NCIS-

Bankruptcy at the national level had closed one of the smaller burger joints that kept the personnel of the nearby NCIS building fed, so they had been glad to see workmen arrive to begin remodeling for the new tenants. If they'd ever been able to look inside, they'd have been very disappointed by the lack of progress. Instead of a wielding hammer and nails, the lone workman was sitting in front of a bank of recording equipment, headphones on. The loud music in the lab had given him a headache, especially now that it was coming through in stereo, while the yelling in the Director's office had made him smile. Now he carefully listened to any sounds of importance coming from the squad room, a job made even harder now that there were only two listening devices left there.

-NCIS-

A change in McGee's breathing caught Kort's attention and he rolled the younger man just as he started to gag. There was nothing in his stomach to come up, but at least when it was over McGee was aware enough to take a few sips of water. Kort managed to also get two aspirin down him before he slipped back into unconsciousness. He tucked his coat more securely around Tim before feeling the large lump still on the back of his head. "Don't do this to me, kid." Sighing, Kort dry swallowed a couple of aspirin before putting the bottle back in Tim's bag. He could handle the pain from the knife wound easily enough, but he could tell infection was already setting in.

-NCIS-

Gibbs was the first one back in the squad room, yelling at Hicks as he rounded the corner. "Your sources find anything yet?"

"Sorry, Gibbs, nothing." When he received a glare, he amended his response. "Nothing yet, but I'll keep looking, Sir."

"You do that, Hicks." If any of his team had been there, they would have been surprised when Gibbs didn't correct the use of 'sir' but he wanted the CIA agent to feel a step down from the rest of them.

Tony arrived back from his errands, falling back into his seat. "Abby's looking through Probie's computer, Boss."

From Gibbs he just got a grunt, but Hicks had noticed the time Tony had been away from his desk. "Took you long enough, DiNozzo."

"Hey, Abby's pretty upset. She and McGee are tight."

"The hot Goth and the Geek? Yeah, right."

Tony was immediately back on his feet. "You don't diss McGee, Hicks, ever. You got that?"

"That's enough, both of you." The Gibbs roar had them both backing down just as Ziva returned. "Everybody go home, don't want to see you back here before 06.00"

"Boss?" Tony didn't want to leave for a second with Tim missing and the CIA playing dirty. Behind him, Ziva was voicing her own objections.

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose. "We've been going for over forty-eight hours straight. We won't do McGee any good if we miss something because we're too punch drunk to see it. Go home, get some sleep, that's an order."


	5. Chapter 5

**a/n - While this is being posted, I'm steadily working on Slave of my Heart, so my posting schedule will go straight from this to that one. Hopefully I'll have lots of chapters for you (already have two done).**

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><p>A soft moan and Kort was instantly awake, biting back his own moan as he crawled closer. "McGee? Tim, you back with me?" He held his breath, hoping for a more coherent response than the last few times McGee had awakened.<p>

"D...dad? I'm sorry, too many of them... Don't be mad, please. I tried... tried to fight back..."

"Shh, you're safe now." Kort snaked one arm under Tim, shifting them until the younger man was draped across his chest. When Tim burrowed closer, pressing his face against Kort's neck, Kort wrapped his arms tighter around him. "I won't let anyone hurt you again, Tim."

-NCIS-

Abby looked up when Gibbs walked into the lab, then immediately headed into her office. Gibbs followed her in, locking the door behind him. "Abby..."

"I don't have anything else, Gibbs, not yet."

"Go home, Abs."

"What? No, I can't go home until we find Timmy, and I sure can't leave the lab with the CIA sneaking around. What if they try to tamper with the evidence we're working on?"

Ignoring her words, Gibbs picked up her coat and bag. "You need a few hours rest, so Palmer is going to drive you home. Ducky and I will watch the lab." True to his words, Ducky and Palmer were standing outside her office, so Gibbs kissed her cheek and sent her on her way.

Once Abby and Palmer were out the door, Ducky joined Gibbs in Abby's office. "Are we..." He broke off, looking around.

"We're clear in here, Duck. Bugs are audio only. One's on the underside of Abby's workbench and the other is on the back of McGee's computer. Vance made sure they can't hack into any of the security cameras."

"That reminds me, Jethro, the Director has surveillance set up on Hicks. If he tries to contact anyone, we'll know about it. Now, I'll take the first watch while you get a few hours sleep."

-NCIS-

After making sure they had no tails, Tony and Ziva found an all-night restaurant that they'd never been to and quickly slid into a booth. Under normal circumstances Tony would have flirted with the pretty, young waitress, but today he barely glanced at her before ordering the daily special sight unseen. Ziva ordered the same, adding orange juice for both of them. Over the unidentified meat and pasta dish they planned out their next move. Plans made, the two agents retreated to Ziva's apartment and, after a few hours sleep, they recorded several hours of casual banter, discussion of leads they knew would go nowhere and mixed in were random comments about upcoming events and what they would do when McGee was found.

-NCIS-

"Have you found them yet, Nikolai?" Petar Cvetko stormed around the small room before grinding his cigar into the table next to Nikolai Dolenec's hand.

The nervous assistant shook his head. "No, there is no sign of them yet."

"How can that be? You cannot find a washed up spy and a geek when they are cut off from all of their resources?"

Nikolai tried to lean away from the still red-hot cigar that was now inches from his face. "I will find them, I give you my word."

"You had better. That geek managed to intercept my codes. The missiles are useless without them."

-NCIS-

Abby arrived back at the lab just as the sun rose, Vance at her heels. The Director went directly into the office to check in with Gibbs as Abby reviewed the computer searches she'd left running.

"Quiet night?"

Gibbs rubbed his face, keeping his voice low in deference to the sleeping Medical Examiner next to him. "Yeah, nobody made a run at the evidence. Not sure if that's good or bad. What about Hicks?

"Guess you had him too tired to cause any mischief last night. He went straight home and then straight to bed. I've got a team on the roof across the street with eyes and ears in his apartment and they tell me he didn't even bother getting undressed, just kicked his shoes off and fell across the bed. Got up about five minutes ago to take his shower." Vance looked amused. "Apparently they don't make spies as tough as they used to."

Despite his worry, Gibbs had to grin at that, too. "Apparently not."

Abby came into the office, silent until the door closed behind her. "I got hits on some of the prints, Gibbs, and it's not good." She leaned across Ducky's sleeping form and pulled up the pictures on her office computer.

Three pictures came up and Vance's eyes widened in shock as he recognized the middle image as one that was also up on their wall of most wanted. "That's Petar Cvetko, a Chechen arms dealer. He's wanted in at least a dozen countries."

Now awake, Ducky silently studied the mug shots as Gibbs shook his head. "Cvetko wouldn't waste his time with a truck load of handguns, so what in the hell did they stumble into?"

Neither Abby nor Director Vance had an answer for the senior agent.

-NCIS-

Kort always knew where he was when he awoke, a trait that had kept him alive many times, but he was still surprised at the sensation of having McGee draped across him. McGee was very still, but the even puffs of air from his steady breathing told Kort that he was, at least, no worse. Idly stroking one hand up and down McGee's back, Kort squinted to see his watch, still set to Eastern time. Guessing the local time from the rising sun and comparing it to the time in DC, he estimated that they were more than half way across the country. With the train showing no sign of slowing, Kort wrapped his other arm around McGee and pulled him closer.

-NCIS-

Gibbs returns to squad room, to find DiNozzo already there. Tony gave him a sad and worried smile and waited for orders. Gibbs didn't waste any time as Hicks arrived from the elevator. "I want you to find a connection between the train that the phones were found on, and the first crime scene. Let's start tracking their possible movements and give me an exact timeline of what they could have done."

Ziva arrived in the squad room and started handing out coffees. "Good morning, Gibbs. I thought we could use this, this morning."

Gibbs gratefully takes the offered cup before dropping a file on Ziva's desk. "Let's make sure somebody from McGee's past didn't see this as a chance to even the score. Start checking the status of anyone McGee helped put away."

She nodded and opened the file, quickly reading the hand written note inside Once her computer was running the search Gibbs had verbally requested in one window, Ziva turned her attention to any large scale weapons that might have gone missing anywhere in the world, something big enough to catch the attention of one of the most notorious and brutal arms dealers to come out of the break-up of the former Soviet Union.

Hicks watched the two NCIS agents settle in with a plan. "Umm, Agent Gibbs, sir, what do you want me to do?"

Gibbs glared until he saw Hicks flinch. "You figure out what it is you're not supposed to tell me."

"And when I do?" Hicks was pretty sure it was a trick question, but he couldn't figure out the punchline.

The glare continued as Gibbs acted like it was the most obvious thing in the world. "Then you tell me, Hicks."


	6. Chapter 6

**a/n - And so it begins. You guys still with me? The site has been driving me up the wall these last few days.**

* * *

><p>Hoping to see a familiar landmark, Kort didn't go back to sleep. They were going through some foothills now which told him they were even further west than he'd thought. Exhausted, achy and feverish, he let his head drop back to the hard surface, the cardboard a poor barrier between him and the floor of the box car. He'd poked at the bedding left behind by the former occupant, but after looking at the filthy and bug infested rags, he'd tossed it all out the door and moved McGee to the opposite end of the car.<p>

Instead of sleeping, Kort thought about his temporary partner. When he'd been paired with McGee for this mission, he'd thought it was a cosmic joke, but over the weeks they'd been tracking the rumors of a heist of Navy weapons he'd discovered a great depth to the younger man. Instead of an annoying naivety, Kort discovered in him a refreshing level of honesty and belief in the greater good. He'd once called DiNozzo a white hat, a lifetime ago, but McGee made him want to be one, himself. Chuckling at what DiNozzo and Gibbs would think of that, he brushed his lips across the top of McGee's head without even being conscious of his actions.

Less than an hour later, McGee shifted in his sleep and Kort rubbed his back, encouraging him to stay asleep as long as possible. Even after Tim settled back down, Kort continued stroking his hand up and down the length of the other man's back. The flesh under his hand was firm, much more muscular than he'd ever thought possible. He wondered if DiNozzo knew how strong his junior partner had become over the years. He realized that he rather liked the fact that he knew something about McGee that DiNozzo didn't.

-NCIS-

It didn't take long for Ziva to find troubling rumors that were running through her sources in Eastern Europe. A shipment of warheads had not arrived at their destination in Bulgaria. Speaking quietly in her native tongue, she started making phone calls. From his own desk, Gibbs watched but kept quiet.

-NCIS-

Tim woke to a splitting headache, instantly bringing his hand up to press against his head.

"Hey, you back with me?"

"Yeah, what... how long was I out?" His memories were somewhat jumbled, but McGee recognized the symptoms of a serious concussion.

"Too long." Kort pulled Tim's hand away from his head and held onto it. "You're doing better, kid, but stay still until we need to move."

As bad as he hurt, Tim wasn't going to argue. Kort made a comfortable pillow and the heartbeat under his hand was soothing. "Any idea where we are?"

"Still going west, we've been in the mountains for a while now." Kort thought for a moment. "It's not terribly cold, so I don't think we're too far north."

Tim closed his eyes, visualizing a map in his head. "We could be headed for Salt Lake City, but LA would be nice. We could get through to the OSP office."

Kort snorted at the thought of showing up on their doorstep. "I'm not sure how welcome I'd be. Their people and I have a bit of a history."

Tim laughed. "You have a bit of a history wherever you go, but don't worry, I'll protect you."

-NCIS-

Abby sat in the lab and watched the clock, waiting for the numbers to count down. At exactly eighteen minutes past the hour, as instructed, she called Gibbs. "Gibbs, Gibbs, Gibbs, I found something."

He answered in his typical way, but she was paying more attention to the bugs. With any luck, this was the first step in finding out exactly who had betrayed them.

-NCIS-

The train was slowing and Kort made sure that McGee was steady on his feet. The throbbing in his back was getting worse and he wasn't sure if he could support the younger man when they made the jump. Sure enough, they hit the ground and his knees buckled.

"Kort? You're hurt? What happened?" Tim struggled, but got the other man's arm over his shoulder and they moved out of view of the train's crew. Once they were behind a tanker car, Tim took a better look at Kort. "Tell me what's wrong?"

He wasn't answered, but it only took a minute to find the the hole and the blood on the back of Trent's shirt. "You were shot?"

"No, knifed, when we got on that last train."

"Why didn't you say something?" Tim tugged the bloodied shirt up to take a better look.

Kort rolled his eyes. "In case you don't remember, you were unconscious at the time."

"Well, this is now and that wound is infected. We need to get you to a doctor."

"How do you propose to do that, McGee? In case you don't remember, we've got a lot of people after us."

Tim looked around, recognizing some distant buildings. "Hey, we're in Las Vegas. Anything's possible." He got Kort back up on his feet and moving towards a hole in the fence. He had a plan, but he needed to get the other man taken care of first.

The further away from the strip, the cheaper the hotels. Far enough away and they were dirt cheap and plenty sleazy. Once they were there, McGee picked one at random and paid for one night in the cheapest room with cash, writing a fictitious name on the register and taking the key without a word. The clerk didn't bat an eye, most of his clients had something to hide and he returned to his crossword puzzle as soon as Tim left. He noticed the other man waiting for him in the shadows and chalked it up to a night of experimentation for two straight men.

Once inside the room, Tim barely paused long enough to drop his case on the bed before he helped Kort into the bathroom. Kort didn't argue when Tim stripped him down, not even when McGee's clothes joined his on the floor. The two men stepped into the shower, letting the warm water rinse away the dirt and the blood.

Kort was convinced that his strength was going down the drain along with the water. By the time the water was shut off, Tim was completely holding him up. He was only vaguely aware as he was dried and tucked into bed, but he knew it had been too long since he'd been cared for so much.


	7. Chapter 7

**a/n - Now we learn something about McGee that Tony doesn't have a clue about. Are we having fun?**

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><p>Tim could feel Kort's breath against his chest as the other man rested his head on Tim's shoulder. Ignoring the growing heat between his legs, Tim carefully washed Trent's body, paying close attention to the infected gash on his back. Once the warm water loosened the dried blood, the wound broke open. Twisting to see it better, Tim kept the water flowing as the infection drained. Once it was only fresh blood oozing from the injury, Tim put pressure against it, bracing himself to support Trent better.<p>

Satisfied that the bleeding had stopped again, Tim turned off the water and gently dried Kort before leading him back to the bed. Despite his best intentions, he couldn't help but sneak a peek before Trent laid on his stomach. Tim watched for a few minutes to make sure the bleeding had completely stopped again before returning to the bathroom to grab their clothes. He used the bar of soap to wash out the blood as best he could from Trent's shirt and boxers. The wool pants were probably beyond saving, but at least they were dark enough to hide the blood stains. Once he had them wrung out and draped over the heat vent to dry, he turned his attention to his own clothes. Luckily, his head injury hadn't bled and the dark colors hid the grease stains from climbing in and out of box cars. Brushing off the dirt as best he could, Tim redressed and downed some more aspirin before heading out.

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, he left his SIG and holster tucked into his computer bag. He debated about his badge, but decided to keep it in his pocket. He'd seen a free clinic and a thrift store and hit them both. At the clinic he told of a friend that had cut his hand but refused to let a doctor look at it. He was careful not to mention any sort of pain killers and eventually he was given a sample strip of antibiotics, first aid supplies and a stern lecture to convince his friend to come in. Next he hit the thrift store. For three dollars and some change, he had two worn but serviceable shirts, one his size and one slightly larger for Kort.

Tim returned to the motel room and woke Kort, forcing the antibiotic and several aspirins down his throat before letting him go back to sleep. Next, he took stock of the cash they had between them. Besides the wad of small bills crammed into a pocket, Kort had about eighty dollars on him and a large amount of change. Tim had wiped out most of the cash in the main compartment of his wallet between the room and the shirts, but he still had his emergency hundred dollar bill stashed behind some photos. It was going to take more than that to keep them one step ahead of the men that were after them and give them a safe way to contact Gibbs.

Sure that Kort was down for the count, Tim gathered the cash and headed out. He'd mentioned MIT dozens of time to DiNozzo, but the Italian had never made the connection, never realized that his Probie had been part of the probabilities class that had taught them much more than theoretical math. It had been a few years, but when it came to numbers, Timothy McGee never forgot.

He started at a small casino near the motel. This far away from the strip, security was lax and it was easy for McGee to get back in the swing as he found his rhythm at the blackjack tables. He was careful as he counted, making sure to lose just enough and often enough to not raise suspicions. He knew how large of a winning he could have before the casino would require identification and have him fill out forms for the IRS. Once he'd get close to that, he'd cash out and move on to the next casino. He kept no more than two hundred dollars in his wallet, the rest hidden in his shoes and in the lining of his belt. There weren't too many casinos at this end of town, so he waited for the shift change and made the loop again.

Convinced that he'd gambled all he could for the day, Tim's next stop was a pawn shop. The one thing about Las Vegas was that there was always someone going for that last big score and willing to sell the shirt off their back to do it. Sure enough, along the back wall, the pawn shop had a rack of designer clothes that had been sacrificed for the shot at one last score. If they were going to hit the larger casinos, they'd need to look the part, so Tim carefully went through the rack. He found a black Hugo Boss suit in his size with a medium gray dress shirt. A silk tie, patterned in shades of gray and black was the finishing touch. He'd noted Kort's sizes when he'd picked up their clothes, and found a charcoal colored Armani suit that would fit him, along with a black shirt. Purchases made, Tim made two more stops for aspirin and food before going back to the motel room.

-NCIS-

Gibbs was seething. The possible sighting of McGee they'd had Abby fake proved just how seriously somebody wanted to get their hands on McGee and Kort. He stood and watched the firefighters battle the blaze as the safe house in West Virginia burned to the ground. The only good thing was that the agents Vance had hidden in the underbrush had managed to get trackers on the cars while the occupants were shooting up the old house. He wanted to take his rage out on someone, preferably the CIA agent assigned to work with them, but it was too soon to tip their hand.

-NCIS-

Kort woke and saw the note that told when his next dose of aspirin could be taken and gratefully swallowed them down. It took a few minutes to realize just how much time had passed and even longer to roll over and sit up. He was still contemplating how to get back on his feel when McGee returned, laden down with bags.

"Where in the hell have you been? Do you know how dangerous it could be?"

For years Tim had been yelled at by an expert, so Kort's rampage didn't even faze him. "We needed cash and supplies, you hungry?"

"What?" Kort took a closer look at him, noticing the different shirt. "What the hell did you do? Please tell me you didn't..."

"Didn't what?" Tim looked closely at Kort, seeing the fleeting raw fear on his face before the usual sardonic expression took over. "You thought I sold you out?"

"No, hell, no. You wouldn't know how to turn if your life depended on it."

Kort looked so uncomfortable that Tim decided to drop the subject for the time being. "I'm sure you read my file, so do you remember that I went to MIT?"

"Well, yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"

Tim was grinning as he unpacked the food. "We're in Vegas, and I went to MIT... took a lot of math classes..." He waited to see if Kort would make the connection. It was obvious when the connection was made.

"You're not old enough."

"Just because the teams had been officially disbanded doesn't mean that everything stopped. The gambling clubs still exist, they just don't have the big money backing them on trips to Vegas anymore."

Kort started laughing. "You're a card counter, I should have known." Laughter turned to coughing and Kort grabbed at his back. "Damn, kid, don't make me laugh. Does DiNozzo know about this?"

"Tony goes to the casinos in New Jersey a couple of times a year and has never invited me along. Does that answer your question? Since I don't know the slang used for poker hands, it's never dawned on any of them that I play blackjack."

He'd finally caught his breath, so Kort just shook his head. "How much did you clear?"

In answer, Tim started pulling money out of every hiding place he had, piling it up on the center of the bed. "After buying food and clothes for us, I cleared about twenty-three hundred. Not bad for being a little rusty."

Grinning, Kort shook his head. "Not bad at all. So, now what?"

"They'll expect us to stick to the edges of whatever town we're in, right?" When Kort nodded, Tim continued, handing Trent the next dose of antibiotics, then some food. "Then we go further in to throw them off. Tomorrow we move to a better room, someplace further away from the tracks. You stay still, let the meds do their job, and I'll work the casinos just off the strip. That should give us enough cash to turn the tables on whoever is hunting us."

"You are full of surprises, kid." Kort stared at him, even as he started eating the soup.

Tim shrugged as he bit into a sandwich. "So, you never told me what you thought I did for the money."

Kort had seen enough of the younger man's stubborn streak to know he wasn't going to let it go. "You have no idea how intriguing some men would find you. How much they would pay for that sweet mouth of yours."

It took a minute for Tim to comprehend what Kort was suggesting. "You thought I was turning tricks? Me?"

"Don't sell yourself short. I guarantee you, there's men out there that would pay six figures to be your first client."

There was no mistaking the pink tint to McGee's ears. "If you say so, but I think I'll stick to blackjack. It's safer."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I just have to make sure to keep each winning small enough to not attract attention. A couple of hundred bucks and you can get it in cash, no questions asked."

"We need fake ID's, or to be more precise, fake ID that my agency doesn't know about." Remembering what he'd pulled off the dead bum before rolling his body into the river, Kort straightened up. "That's it."

"What?"

Kort was already reaching for his coat. Tim saw what he was after and handed it over. Kort dug around for a minute and came up with the grubby driver's license. "This was the man that jumped us. If I can peel it apart and swap out the picture, you'll have the paperwork for a larger winning."

Other than a sense of movement behind Kort when they jumped aboard, Tim didn't remember anything about their attacker. "What if he files..."

"He won't. You don't have to worry about him showing back up and causing problems."

Tim felt ill at the thought. "You mean that you..."

Kort shifted enough to cup Tim's cheek. "It was either him or us and I wasn't going to let him touch you."

Uncomfortable with the thought that Kort had killed a man to protect him, McGee began studying a map listing the various casinos in the city while Kort carefully peeled the license apart and replaced the picture with the one from McGee's driver's license. A careful application of heat from the in-room iron and the lamination was restored.

The day was quickly catching up with them and before long Tim joined Trent in the large bed. Kort was still naked, again laying on his stomach, which gave him the perfect view as McGee stripped down to his boxers and climbed into the bed. Just as McGee was drifting off, he felt strong, cool fingers wrap around his own. "I'm impressed, Tim, really impressed."

Tim sensed a warmth that had nothing to do with the thin blanket. "Thanks."


	8. Chapter 8

"Are you an idiot, Franjo?" Petar Cvetko had him by the throat and against the wall. "I need the geek taken alive, his computer intact. You do not just go in and start shooting up the place."

"He wasn't there, Petar. I give you my word."

"And that is the only reason you are still alive. Now, you and Nikolai find them before NCIS does."

"What about your man, can't he find them? You've certainly paid him enough."

A deadly glare and a hard slap to the face stopped that line of questioning.

-NCIS-

"Good morning."

Tim opened his eyes at the slightly raspy voice. "Morning. How'd you know I was awake?" He smiled as fingers brushed against his forehead.

"You've got a headache, don't you?" Kort's hand trailed down to cup Tim's jaw. "I could see the crease forming between your eyes."

"It's not as bad as it was. What about you, how's your back feeling?" Tim mirrored Kort's actions by reaching up to touch his face. "You're still running a fever."

"I'll be all right."

Tim wasn't convinced, but he knew staying where they were wasn't the answer. "How's your stomach? Can you keep down some more of the antibiotics?"

"Yeah." He wasn't totally convinced, but knew he had no choice. Kort started to move, but the hand moved down to his shoulder and he waited, trying to not be obvious as he watched Tim slide out of the bed and slip into the bathroom. Now dressed, he came back with Kort's clothes and carefully helped him dress after handing over the next dose of meds.

Once dressed, Kort felt much more in control of the situation when Tim again left the room, this time for breakfast for the two of them. Slowly nibbling on the food and sipping the tea, Kort looked over the newspaper Tim brought back, paying close attention to the national news. "Big fire in West Virginia last night."

Tim leaned over his shoulder, studying the photographs. "Crap, that was one of the agency's safe houses. Guess we were right to run. Speaking of running, we should probably get moving, check out is in an hour."

Kort sat in the chair with the bags while Tim knelt down to tie the injured man's shoes. Once they were ready to leave, Tim checked the bathroom one last time, using a towel to wipe away any fingerprints. He continued through the room, wiping down every hard surface they might have touched before tossing the towel onto the bed. A serious forensic sweep would still find evidence in the room, but this would have to do.

They took their time walking closer to downtown, Tim keeping an arm around Kort's waist to support him. After the first several blocks, they were able to pretend to window shop and as soon as they were far enough away from last night's motel, Tim flagged down a cab. With Kort tucked against him, McGee was well aware how they looked, so he encouraged it by asking the driver to take them to the Blue Moon Resort. Smirking, the driver took them to the male only gay resort a few blocks from the strip.

When Kort gave him a curious look, Tim just smiled. When they arrived at the hotel, his smile grew wider as Kort looked around in amazement. He leaned closer and whispered in Trent's ear. "Even if they somehow track us to Vegas, this is the last place they'd look for us." He heard a returning snort before pulling away.

"Welcome, you boys checking in?" The heavy make-up didn't quite hide the slight razor burn on the neck, but the desk clerk was friendly and efficient as he checked them in. "No luggage?"

Kort had recovered from the shock enough to come up with an answer. "Afraid our luggage was stolen when we arrived in Las Vegas."

"Oh, you poor things. Remember our pool is clothing optional, so at least you won't have to worry about swim trunks, handsome."

Tim stepped in between them and took the offered key card. "Thank you, we'll keep that in mind."

-NCIS-

The trick about keeping important information away from people that are spying on you is to give them enough so they don't know you're onto them. Knowing that, Tony loudly announced when he'd figured out how the phones ended up on the stopped train. While the rest of them gathered, he sent the map to the plasma.

"Okay, this would have been easier if Probie were here, but luckily I didn't have to figure out how fast the trains were actually going." Since McGee was the one missing and Ziva hadn't been part of the team during the Watson case, the joke fell flat. He clicked to enlarge the map. "There were three trains that left the freight yard that day. Even though it might be against the rules,I'm assuming that it was the last train that was involved because if it was a later train, the conductor would have noticed the fire."

Gibbs nodded in agreement. The damage from the blast would have been quite visible to an arriving train. "Good theory so far, DiNozzo."

"Thanks, Boss." Despite the seriousness of the situation, Tony enjoyed the praise. "Now that we know which train they left on and where it was going," he clicked again, "and we know where the other train was going." A third click brought up a map with both trains routes clearly marked. "You can see that the two trains passed less than five feet from each other at that junction. An easy jump, even for McGee."

Gibbs remembered the location of the fingerprints on the phones, especially McGee's It would have been an easy jump but an even easier toss, but he wasn't going to mention that in front of Hicks or the rest of their audience. "Start searching for anything unusual between the transfer site and where the second train came to a stop, and tell Abby good job on the graphics."

He smirked at the look on Tony's face before picking up his coat. "I'm going for coffee."

-NCIS-

A whispered confession to the desk clerk that his partner had injured his back trying to save their luggage brought an extra stack of pillows. Before he left to put his plans into motion, Tim helped Kort get comfortable on the plush, king-sized bed.

"How's that?"

Kort relaxed against the soft bedding. "This was a stroke of brilliance, kid, pure brilliance."

Blushing slightly at the praise, Tim pulled the blankets up after checking the bandages. "Try to get some more rest, I'll bring some food back with me."

"Maybe by tomorrow I'll be able to go and watch you play blackjack. Which casinos are you going to hit today?"

Tim hesitated for a second as he tucked away his sidearm again. He wasn't going to lie to Kort, but he knew the other man was not going to be happy with his plans. "No gambling until later this afternoon. It's hard to get lost in the crowd if there's no crowd."

"Then what are you up to?"

"The codes I intercepted came from our side, Kort. If I can backtrace the signal, I can find who's selling us out, but I need more than just that little netbook. Besides, Gibbs and I set up a fail-safe and it's time to get it started."

As much as he'd come to trust McGee, it was still the principle of the matter. "You do realize that when Gibbs comes riding in to save us, I'll never hear the end of it?" Kort tried to look disgruntled, but it really didn't work, surrounded by pillows and satin sheets.

Tim managed to keep a straight face as he left the room, trying not to look at the naked men at the swimming pool. He found a convenience store and purchased a cell phone using cash, staying out of view of the security cameras. Checking his watch, he hurried out and began wandering through a large parking lot.


	9. Chapter 9

**a/n - Tomorrow is a black out day in protest of the anti-internet bills being pushed through Congress, so here is a nice, meaty chapter to get you through it. Enjoy.**

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><p>Barely tasting the coffee, Gibbs walked through the nearly empty building, heading for the large exhaust vents on the far side. Once there, he waited. He and McGee had set up a schedule for emergencies, a set time every day where Gibbs would be alone and could safely talk. For an extra layer of security Gibbs had even purchased a burn phone, one much smaller and thinner than his usual choice, but easier to stay unnoticed in his pocket. He'd hoped to get the call yesterday, but knew that there hadn't been enough time for McGee to get somewhere safe.<p>

When the call finally came in, from an unknown number, he answered on the first ring. "Yeah?"

"Are you alone?"

The roar of the vents forced Gibbs to cover his other ear as he strained to hear, but it would make it impossible for the conversation to be picked up by even the best listening equipment. "Yeah, it's safe to talk. Are you all right? Are you safe? Is Kort still with you?"

"Both banged up, but on the mend and we're safe for the moment. Boss..."

Gibbs could hear the fear as Tim struggled to tell him what had happened. "This is bigger than the handguns, isn't it?"

"Way bigger. They stole a bunch of warheads from someplace in Europe, Gibbs, and they were here for rockets to mount them on."

"What? Do they have the rockets in their possession yet?"

"I think so, I heard one of them mention a warehouse in Hopewell."

Gibbs remembered the theft of the warheads that Ziva had uncovered. Sixty five of the warheads had vanished from a military transport train. Combined with enough rockets, it would give Cvetko sixty five functional missiles to sell to terrorists, a terrifying prospect. "Damn it, how close are they to launching them?"

"They can't launch them because I intercepted the activation codes. That's why they're after us. Boss, somebody from our side had to have sent out those codes. I have a plan to trace them, but we can't let them know we're onto them."

"What do you need from us, Tim?"

"Time and some sort of a distraction."

"We've located the bugs and have been monitoring the suspected moles on this end. We'll pick them up and see what else we can shake loose. Stay safe, son." This time it was Gibbs that heard the dial tone before he slowly closed his phone.

-NCIS-

Tim watched the time carefully as he talked to Gibbs, shutting down the call just before it hit the two minute mark. He shut off the phone and removed the battery to be safe. He'd been on the other side of the equation often enough to know all the tricks to prevent his call from being traced.

Ducking into a cybercafe, he paid for a short block of computer time and quickly did some research. His friend from MIT was still in Las Vegas and had worked his way up the ladder to assistant day manager at one of the flagship casinos on the strip.

John Phillips started out as an engineering major at MIT, a major chosen by his parents. He'd enjoyed the mathematics, but nothing else involved with his future career. When he accompanied a group of fellow students to a casino in New Jersey, he'd discovered his true passion.

Months later, at the end of a late night study session, he'd found himself entering into a pact with a very young, very smart young man who also hated the career path his parents had chosen for him. John dropped the engineering for an economics major with a psychology minor while young Timothy quietly shifted from nuclear science to computer forensics. All through the parental ranting, they'd been each others support until, finally, they'd each fulfilled their dreams.

Tim entered the casino, keeping an eye on the corridor to the back offices as he casually played the slots. Eventually, John came out to do his morning walk through. Tim caught his eye and then quickly shook his head before John could react. Tim then walked over to the nearby beverage station and poured himself a cup of coffee. He didn't have long to wait before John came over and poured his own cup.

Not looking up, Tim poured some creamer into the cup. "I need your help."

Phillips didn't visibly react to the softly spoken words, but his hand slid closer before picking up a stir stick. His own voice was equally soft. "Seven fourteen." When he left, there was a key card on the counter. As he continued to stir his coffee, Tim slid his hand over and picked it up.

Obviously under repair, room 714 had no furniture and fresh patches were apparent on the walls. Tim was still studying the damage when John walked in. "Heavy metal rockers, they play hard and fight even harder."

Tim had to smile at the memories that brought back. "Do you still put them in rooms that you want to renovate, let them pay for the upgrades?"

"Hey, if they're going to come in and smash up my hotel, they might as well be tearing apart rooms that I want to change anyway." John studied him carefully. "You look like hell, Timmy. What happened?"

"The less you know, the safer you'll be, John. Let's just say that it involves some possible terrorists that have more access in this country than they should have. They managed to bug our office and get a mole close to the investigation."

While John stared at him in shock, Tim made his request. "I need access to a secure computer that's big enough and fast enough to track them down and someplace safe to work."

"Well, I can comp you a room easy enough and a computer is easy, but I'm not about how secure it would be."

"What? Why?" Instinctively, Tim looked around, his hand moving to his hip, only to find no holster as he remembered that his pistol was hidden away as to not arouse suspicion.

"No, not like that." John paced for a minute, not wanting to burden his old friend, especially under these circumstances, but he needed McGee to understand. "I'm pretty sure that my boss is skimming money from the casino, but I don't have any proof to take to the owners. He's got to be using the computers somehow, and that means he's managed to bypass the security protocols"

Tim started formulating a plan that would take care of both their problems. "Okay, John, this is what we're going to do."

-NCIS-

A cryptic text from Gibbs asking about new uniforms for the NCIS softball team brought Vance to a meeting site. Twenty minutes later he left to return to his office while Gibbs had one more call to make. As usual, Fornell grumbled, but showed up promptly.

"All right, Gibbs, what's so damn important?" He looked around, wondering about the cold and noisy meeting place Gibbs had chosen.

"Petar Cvetko, ya' heard of him?"

Fornell didn't have to struggle to remember. "Chechen arms dealer, tight with a wide range of terrorists. Fell off the grid in Bosnia a few weeks ago. Are you saying he's here?"

"Your sources think he's behind the missing warheads?"

"Bosnian government's official story is that they were stolen for scrap metal, but yeah, he looks good for it. Warheads won't do him much good, though. Not without something to launch them and the codes to make everything work together. Homeland security is concerned, but not worried."

"They'd better start worrying."

"Are you saying that he's gotten his hands on some rockets? What in the hell is going on, Gibbs?"

Gibbs took a sip of his coffee as he looked around. He'd subtly scanned Fornell and cleared him of any bugs and the sounds of the wind as they stood on the edge of the Anacostia River would cover their voices. "Our investigation into rumors of a planned heist of small arms crossed paths with a CIA investigation into a group that was smuggling handguns out of the country. It became a joint OP."

"Big jump from handguns to missiles. When did that happen?"

"We're not sure. Kort and McGee went under, Kort as a buyer, McGee as his accountant. The meet was a trap, but somehow McGee managed to intercept the codes. They're staying one step ahead of Cvetko."

"You're telling me that Trent Kort and your geek are the only thing standing between Petar Cvetko and sixty five ready to launch missiles? Why haven't you brought them in?"

"Had an infestation show up in our offices the same time as the CIA. Those codes came from our side. Those rockets are US rockets and nobody's sounded the alarm."

"Shit."

"Yeah."

"I assume you have a plan?"

"McGee thinks the rockets are in a warehouse in Hopewell. Need you to find them and sit on them until we're ready to move."

"And if they show up for their rockets before you're ready?"

"They won't. No point in moving the rockets until they have the codes."

Fornell wasn't quite convinced. "But if they do?"

"Then you arrest them, Tobias, and make sure they don't talk to anyone."

-NCIS-

McGee arrived back at the Blue Moon with a plan, another seven hundred dollars from his blackjack winnings, a bag from a gift shop and two orders of Chinese food. "How are you feeling?"

"Well, I'm not dead yet." Kort grimaced as he sat up. "I'd say that's a positive sign."

"Yeah, I'd say so." While Kort was sitting up, Tim peeled back the dressing and took a look at the wound. "The antibiotics are helping, but you've still got an infection."

Their options were limited, so Kort chose to focus on the most vital. "Do I smell Moo Shu Pork?"

Shaking his head, McGee pulled the box out and handed it over before digging out the chopsticks and plastic forks. Kort ignored the fork and expertly started working the chopsticks. "You are a prince among men, McGee. So, what's the plan?"

Wielding his own chopsticks, Tim laid out the plan, ignoring the widening of Kort's eyes the more he talked.

-NCIS-

Gibbs arrived back in the squad room and gave a subtle signal to DiNozzo. As Gibbs circled around, Tony and Ziva began reviewing their search results loud enough to cover any extra sounds as Gibbs grabbed Hicks in a sleeper hold. Once Hicks was out, Tony helped Gibbs hustle him into the elevator. Ducky was waiting in Autopsy with a large needle that assured Ryan Hicks a long and pleasant rest.

When Gibbs and DiNozzo walked away with Hicks slumped between them, Ziva got busy with her own part of the plan, setting the MP3 players up on hers and Tony's desks. As their voices started, she picked up the backpacks from under the desks and made her way to Abby's office. Tony and Gibbs joined her a few minutes later and Abby showed them where she'd tracked the transmissions. Address in hand, they set out to the closed burger joint.

The voices were softer today and DiNozzo seemed to be bouncing between the case and random movie trivia, causing their listener to concentrate to the sounds coming through the headphones. He never had a clue that he wasn't alone until the headphones were suddenly snatched away. He vaguely heard DiNozzo's voice asking him for fries before a large fist ended his awareness.

Back at NCIS, Abby and Vance waited for the signal from Gibbs. Once it came, they swept the entire building, gathering all the bug in the place except for the two still in the squad room. The team returned and dumped their unconscious listener in a holding cell before starting the next step.

-NCIS-

"And here I thought you were the sane one out of your group."

Tim grinned at the back-handed compliment. "You got a better plan?"

"No, but I'm going with you."

"Absolutely not. If this doesn't work, you're the only one who can keep the evidence safe."

"I don't like sitting on my ass letting you take all the risks."

"I'm not real thrilled about it either, but unless you can figure out how to get a couple of degrees worth of computer knowledge overnight, we don't have a lot of choice. Why don't you watch some television while I work." Tim walked over and flipped on the set.

Kort had tried to find some news earlier only to discover that the resort streamed porn 24-7. He opened his mouth to warn McGee when the image of two men, tangled together, appeared on the screen. Momentarily distracted by the image, Kort shifted on the bed as his mind substituted McGee for the younger man writhing in ecstasy.

Tim froze at the sounds coming from the speakers. Flushing, he turned back to shut it off when he realized how quiet Kort was. He looked closer at the screen, casually noticing the physical similarities between Kort and the older actor.

"Not a good quality film." Kort tried to downplay his interest. "Two men, five legs, the cameraman caught himself."

Turning his head to better sort out the action, Tim disagreed. "That's not another leg, Kort."

Kort's head mirrored his action. "Damn, you're right. How does he walk with that monster?"

-NCIS-

Usually it would be McGee studying the electronics found at a crime scene, but that wasn't possible and the only other geek he trusted was Abby which is why Gibbs found himself guarding her as she worked her magic.

"Gibbs, you'd better take a look at this." She chewed her lip as he looked at her findings.

"You're sure this is where he's sending his reports?"

"This is really bad, isn't it, Gibbs?"

"Oh, yeah."


	10. Chapter 10

He'd slept too much that day, he told himself that was the reason he was wide awake, watching McGee sleeping next to him. Trent had never met a man like him, so innocent and trusting at times, but with a brilliant mind that caught so much more than people ever gave him credit. Looking at him, such a perfect body, slim and sleek, with only the lightest dusting of hair, his pale body virtually glowed in the moonlight. There were a few scars, for some he knew the story, but for the rest he was in the dark. He wanted to know. In the quiet of the night he could admit to himself that he wanted to know everything.

Tim shivered and Kort pulled the blankets up higher, smiling as the other man instinctively burrowed closer. Kort rolled to his side to meet him in the middle of the large bed, letting his leg slide between Tim's. Content and finally sleepy, Kort closed his eyes and let the rhythm of Tim's breathing lull him to sleep.

-NCIS-

Ryan Hicks sat in Interrogation Room Three, absolutely terrified. He'd woken up inside a drawer in Autopsy, naked and cuffed to the cold metal surface. At his first yell, the drawer had banged open and Dr. Mallard had been standing over him, scalpel in hand. His assistant had been standing next to him, the large tool they used to open the rib cage in his hands.

Dr. Mallard had tapped the scalpel against his face as he leaned close enough for Ryan to smell the tea the older man favored. "So glad you're awake. I would hate for you to miss a moment of our time together."

It was then that Ryan noticed the large Y already drawn on his chest, marking the upcoming incision. He'd begun to scream and beg, promising to tell them anything, not even realizing when he lost control of his own bodily functions. Now he was wearing nothing but an orange jumpsuit, still smelling of his own urine, waiting to see what would happen to him.

-NCIS-

Behind the mirror, DiNozzo grinned at Ducky. "The marker was a nice touch, Gibbs won't even have to break a sweat on this one." As if to prove the point, the door slammed open, causing Hicks to jump.

Gibbs dropped the file on the table before slamming both fists against the heavy wood. Hicks jumped again, as did the observers in the next room. "Start talking."

"They said you couldn't be trusted, that you'd hold back information." Hicks leaned back as Gibbs got in his face, the air from each word feeling like a slap.

"What. Did. You. Do?"

"I planted bugs. I put listening devices in the building so our agency would know what you were doing behind our backs."

"What else?"

Ryan was confused as he shook his head. "Nothing, that's all I did."

"Really?" Gibbs opened the file, showing the careful research DiNozzo had put together. "Your people are always leaving a trail of bugs and they don't get paid extra for it. Now, you're claiming that you did?"

"What?" Hicks was sweating and wishing he'd never met with the CIA recruiter that had come to his college a lifetime ago.

Gibbs slides one sheet of paper across the table. A bank statement, the name Ryan Jeffrey Hicks across the top, three deposits marked with a yellow highlighter, each for fifty thousand dollars. Instantly, Ryan knew no one from the Agency would be arriving to save him. He was the fall guy and he hadn't seen it coming.

"Damn it." He buried his face in his hands. "I was such an idiot. Gregory Martin is the one that ordered the bugs, but that's all I did, that's all I know. You have to believe me, Agent Gibbs."

Smirking, Gibbs picked up the file, leaving the bank statement on the table as he walked out. Alone in the room, Hicks crumpled up the page and threw it against the wall as he let out a yell.

DiNozzo passed Gibbs in the hallway. "Gregory Martin, I'm on it, Boss."

Gibbs nodded as he continued on down, heading for another observation room. "Check with Abby, see if she's found anything on guest number two."

-NCIS-

Kort bounced his leg as he watched Tim sort through his battered bag, pulling out various electronic gadgets and placing them in his new case. "Are you sure about this? Do you trust this man?"

"Yes, I'm sure about this. Yes, I trust him, and," Tim gave Kort a look, "yes, I know what I'm doing."

"I know you do. I'd just feel better if I could watch your back. Kinda getting used to having you around."

Tim ducked his head so Kort couldn't see the expression on his face. "Well, I think you're stuck with me." He stood and handed over a second burn phone. "If you haven't heard from me in five hours, put the battery in and turn it on. If you haven't heard from me in eight hours, call Gibbs. The number is in the phone."

Kort followed him to the door. He'd been grateful that McGee had gone shopping for more personal necessities in addition to the phone, even if the only boxers in the casino gift shop had neon green poker chips on them. Standing in the doorway, a private conversation was impossible so he pulled Tim close to whisper in his ear. "Do what you have to do, but don't be a hero about it. Just get in and get out. A man skimming money like that can be dangerous when cornered."

Under the watchful eye of other guests, Tim nuzzled closer. "I know, I'll be careful." As he pulled back, their lips brushed together. "I won't let you down."

-NCIS-

Guest number two was in the last interrogation room at the end of the long hallway. Rarely used, maintenance had to remove a large number of boxes before the prisoner could even be brought in. Their mystery man had seemed surprised to find himself in such a run down room, and even more surprised to find himself handcuffed to the chair.

Ziva stepped closer, a smile on her face. "I am afraid this room does not see much use, but it is good when we want some privacy." A muffled scream could be heard from room three and her smile widened. "Broken already, that might be a new personal best for Gibbs."

"You can't... you can't do this to me. I have rights."

"Oh, yes," Ziva pressed her thumb against a pressure point, listening to his whimper for a moment before she added a second pressure point that had him gasping and twitching. "That was something I had to learn when I became an American citizen. Rights, like the right to remain silent." She held the pressure points for a moment longer, watching as he struggled to make a sound.

It wasn't until she let go that he was able to let out a sob, curling in on himself as he panted and gasped. "When my lawyer gets a hold of this, he'll make you regret the day you were born."

Ziva pointed up to the camera mounted in the corner. There was no red light shining under the lens. "You mean a recording, from that camera? Sorry, it does not work. NCIS does not have a budget like the CIA and cameras are so very expensive to repair." She reached out and took his hand again. "Now, where were we?"

-NCIS-

Tim stood at the coffee bar, nursing an Espresso Macchiato. The place was busy, but not overly crowded. From where he was standing he could see the mirror behind the baristas and that gave him a view of the entire room. John arrived as scheduled and eventually made his way over to the counter with a tall Cappuccino. Neither man spoke, or acknowledged each other in any way, but when Tim shifted over to give him more room his hand moved, revealing a small phantom keystroker. John laid his hand over the device and casually moved it closer. After taking a few sips, John left the coffee bar, leaving his newspaper behind. Tim casually opened the paper to check the scores, slipping the hidden key card into his pocket.

After spending some time finishing his drink and reading the paper, Tim casually walked out and down the street. Once at John's casino, he bypassed the gaming rooms and continued up to the guest rooms. The room the card opened was furnished this time and Tim went straight to the closet and pulled out the coat that was hanging there. On the back was the hotel logo and over the pocket was embroidered "IT Staff". He settled in to wait.

-NCIS-

John Phillips arrived just as the yelling started. The casino manager was ranting at his assistant, so John went straight into the office. "Tyler, what's wrong?"

"What's wrong is that the file for the expansion plan is gone. It was on my desk last night and now it's gone." Tyler Reynolds glared at his assistant. She might be easy on the eyes, but couldn't remember the simplest of instructions. At times that was handy, but not minutes before he was to present the plans to the owner of the complex.

"Tiffany, did you tidy up Mr. Reynolds' desk after he left last night?" John circled around carefully, trying not to rush, as he looked at the L-shaped desk.

"Yes, sir, I made sure everything was organized for him." She stood in front of them, wringing her hands. "I don't know what happened."

Deciding he'd spent enough time to look convincing, John leaned over and looked in the space between the desk and the wall. "Oh, I think I know what happened. Hang on a minute." He dropped down onto the floor and snaked his arm through the computer cords as he reached for the missing file. Happy with the reason John was messing with the back of his computer, Reynolds had no clue about the small device his assistant manager was plugging into the tower. When John emerged with the missing file, Reynolds happily helped him to his feet.

Crisis apparently averted, Reynolds sat at his computer as his assistant scurried away. "Okay, since I'm running late now, let's go over last night's numbers quickly." He moved the mouse across the screen to open the needed report and the arrow bounced back. Reynolds frowned, but tried it a second time and was able to open the report. As he always did, he opened an email to write his notes on that would then be sent to each of the divisions. He typed a few letters before he realized that the cap lock had toggled. He tapped it and some random letters appeared on the screen.

"What the hell is going on?" Reynolds backspaced and suddenly the cap lock was back on. "What did that dingbat do to my computer now?" Now frustrated, he accidentally closed out what he was working on. By the time he had everything back up, the owner's personal assistant had called and asked where he was.

Reynolds slammed his hands down on the desk as he stood. "Damn it, I can't deal with this right now. John, get someone up from tech support to fix it for me."

"Right away, sir." The number he called wasn't for their IT department, however.

-NCIS-

McGee arrived in the manager's office just as Reynolds was leaving. The manager never looked past the familiar coat. "Get that computer fixed before I get back."

"Yes, sir."

"John, stay here and make sure he works fast. I need the overnights as soon as I finish with the old man." Reynolds strode out, his assistant following in his wake, clutching the file and a notepad.

Now alone in the plush office, John grinned and turned to his friend. "You heard the man, work fast."

For someone who could hack the Pentagon with one arm tied behind his back, at least according to DiNozzo, tearing through the protection that hid Tyler Reynolds' illegal activities was a piece of cake. Less that ten minutes later, Phillips was leaning over McGee's shoulder, staring at the screen.

"I thought a million, two at the top, but this, wow."

Tim started printing out copies of the hidden accounts. "They always get greedy and that's usually how they get caught."

-NCIS-

"Are you sure about this, Tobias?"

"I'm sure. Gibbs asked us to wait, so we're going to wait." Fornell pulled his coat tighter around him as they stared at the screen. From the outside, the warehouse gave no clue as to the possible devastation held inside. "Let's just see who shows up."


	11. Chapter 11

Tyler Reynolds was just finishing up his presentation to Marshall Wallace when John quietly slipped into the office. Wallace immediately noticed his arrival. "Mr. Phillips, isn't it? Did you have something to add in regards to the expansion?"

"No, sir." John took a deep breath and stepped closer. "This is in regards to the overseas bank accounts." When Wallace looked confused and Reynolds froze, he continued. "The ones that are in Mr. Reynolds' name."

Wallace held out his hand and John gave him the pages McGee had printed for him. It only took the businessman a moment to understand what he was looking at and he turned to stare at a very nervous Tyler Reynolds.

"Mr. Wallace, I can explain."

"I sincerely doubt that, Mr. Reynolds, but it might be amusing to listen to you try. Mr. Phillips, would you wait for me in Mr. Reynolds' former office? While you are there, feel free to plan any changes you would like to the decor and bring yourself up to date with the expansion plans." Wallace handed John the file for the expansion. "I need you to be ready to be introduced to the shareholders next week."

-NCIS-

"Well?"

"Now we wait." Phillips was too nervous to sit down and started gathering Reynolds' photos and personal items. He had just finished boxing all the items up when Marshall Wallace walked in.

Wallace looked at Tim, taking in the casino work jacket. "I never forget a face and I don't believe you work for me."

John jumped in before Tim could say anything. "I brought him in for this, sir, to provide independent verification of my suspicions. We went to college together."

It was Tim's turn to cut off the conversation before John mentioned his name. "Gregory Briers, sir." Using the name on his hastily crafted fake ID, he shoved his hand out for a handshake.

Wallace took the offered hand, but he was aware of Phillips' reaction to the introduction. "Well, Mr. Briers, would you check that Mr. Reynolds has successfully returned my money back to its rightful spot?"

With Wallace leaning over his shoulder, Tim reviewed all the banking records for the casino, quickly spotting the returned funds. "It's all back, sir. All eight million dollars."

"That's very good. You're an excellent hacker, but your name isn't Gregory Briers."

Tim froze, reviewing his options. He'd heard enough about Wallace over the years that he had a pretty good idea how this was going to play out, but he needed to be sure. Finally he looked over at John. "Do you trust him?"

John nodded slowly, knowing exactly what was being asked of him. "Yeah, I do. He's always been upfront with his employees and refused to let anyone suspected of organized crime get involved with any of his casinos or hotels." He paused for a moment before continuing. "His son was at the Twin Towers when they were hit."

Truth was what Tim McGee did best and that last bit of information gave him a connection to the man that could save them or destroy even more. "My real name is Timothy McGee and I'm a federal agent. I did go to MIT with John. My major was in computer forensics, but I met John through the probabilities class and the gambling club. I'm not here to investigate you or your casino. I came to John for his help."

The calm explanation seemed to resonate with Wallace and he sat down next to McGee. "Go on."

"We've been working to shut down a weapons ring, but my partner and I discovered that the handguns they were moving was actually a front for a much bigger operation."

"How big?"

"Big enough that if they're successful, we'll refer to 9-11 as the good old days."

"My God." Wallace's hand shook as he pressed it against his mouth, remembering the horrors of that day.

"The only way they could have gotten this far is if they have someone on the inside."

"A traitor?"

"Yes, and our team's been compromised because of it, our offices were bugged. I have the evidence of the what, but not the who. I need to prove who sold us out so we can stop them before they're able to finish what they're planning."

"Do they know you're in Vegas?"

"We've been traveling off the grid for days. We dumped our cell phones right after they tried to blow us up and managed to get to Las Vegas without being seen by another living soul. The cover we created when we got here was that I'm traveling with my boyfriend and we were robbed when we arrived. I've been working the off-strip casinos the last two days building up funds so we don't look like a couple of homeless bums on the run. I've been in secure contact with my boss and they're tightening the noose at their end, but I'm the one that needs to finish it."

"What do you need?

"With a powerful enough computer, I can backtrace their signal without giving myself away, so I need access to a secure computer network and someplace for us to hide while I work. I also need a doctor that won't ask any questions for my partner. He's got an infected knife wound from when we escaped."

With it all laid out, McGee waited, knowing how much trust he'd put in a man he'd never met. Marshall didn't comment before picking up his phone and calling in his personal assistant. The muscular man with the brown eyes and diamond stud didn't say a word as he came in and waited for his instructions.

"Dalton, this is Mr. Briers, who just recovered eight million dollars for us. I think he deserves more than a little thank you for his work. Inform the staff that he and his life partner will be staying here as my personal guest in the penthouse suite. This is a working vacation for Mr. Briers, so if there is anything that Mr. Phillips is unable to provide for him, I want you to take care of it personally. Is that understood?"

"Yes, sir, it will be my pleasure."

"Good. Now, there is a possibility that our former manager might try to get back at the man that stopped him, so you will also be providing security for the couple."

Dalton turned to McGee. "You and your significant other will be safe, you have my word."

"Thank you." The morning had taken a surreal twist, but Tim managed to keep a neutral expression on his face.

Wallace wasn't quite done. "First order of business will be to collect Mr. Briers' partner. They were robbed when they arrived in Vegas and he was injured. Mr. Phillips will have their suite prepared by the time you return."

-NCIS-

Kort was just contemplating turning on the phone when McGee walked through the door and he breathed a sigh of relief. "Thank God."

"Good, you're dressed. I've got a limo waiting for us downstairs." Tim quickly gathered the few items they had.

"A limo?"

"Yeah, apparently stopping an embezzler and recovering eight million dollars comes with some perks."

-NCIS-

"What do you mean, you don't know?" Cvetko's fingers tightened around the phone. "I thought you had people monitoring the investigation?" Without waiting for an answer, he slammed the phone down. Nikolai Dolenec looked up in fear.

"Has something gone wrong, Petar?"

"He is an idiot and we no longer have access to NCIS."

"What about the CIA?"

"They are not the ones running the investigation, that does us no good."

-NCIS-

Even the jaded CIA agent had a hard time not staring at the opulent room as they were escorted in. Several men were waiting for them, but the only one he was introduced to was a doctor. He soon found himself being examined and after a few moments of fussing and clucking, an IV of heavy duty antibiotics was attached to his arm and he was laying in the largest bed he'd ever seen. Before he could even figure out how to ask, he and McGee were alone.

Tim sat on the edge of the bed. "It's a two bedroom suite, but they've taken the second bed out to make room for the computer set up."

"How much did you tell them?"

"Pretty much everything." He shrugged "I know it was a gamble, but it was necessary."

"I hope you're right." A quiet knock on the door interrupted the conversation and a few moments Dalton escorted a bell hop in with a room service cart.

"Mr. Wallace sent up some food, but if there is anything else you would like, just call down to the kitchen and they'll send it right up."

"Thank you, Dalton."

The bell hop made a quick retreat and once he was gone, Dalton handed McGee a print-out. "If this meets your requirements, we'll have it delivered within the hour."

Tim looked over the list, eyes widening at the specs. "I didn't even know some of these were out on the market yet."

Dalton smiled for the first time. "They're not, but Mr. Wallace thought they would be useful. As a stockholder, he had enough clout to make it happen. Will it help?"

"Oh, yeah," Tim couldn't help but grin. "This will help a lot."

Before he left, Dalton pulled a large bag out from the bottom of the cart. "Mr. Wallace's tailor will have a wardrobe ready for each of you tomorrow, but this should help for tonight."

Once they were totally alone, Tim opened the bag, grinning again as he tossed Trent a pair of silk pajama bottoms.

Leaning back against the mountain of pillows, IV in his arm, Kort let his fingers caress the fabric. "I could get use to being a kept man, Timothy."

"Oh, you could?" Tim lifted the covers off the plates to reveal rib-eye steaks with lobster tails and brought them over to the bed. "Just enjoy it while it lasts."

* * *

><p><strong>an - two more chapters after this one. The question is, do you want me to post over the weekend, or wait and post Monday and Tuesday? After the last chapter of this is up, I've got two finished chapters of _Slave of my Heart _done and the first three chapters of a new McGibbs that's for a challenge due next month. I wasn't going to work on anything new, but I've been literally dreaming the scenes for the last two months and need to get it out of my head.**


	12. Chapter 12

**a/n - Wow, lots of people asking for me to update this weekend. I didn't know that many people liked the story. Yeah, after rereading this chapter I upped the rating just to be safe. Enjoy.**

* * *

><p>Tony stared out the window, the pizza box ignored on his desk. Ziva came over to stand behind him. "Starving yourself will not help McGee."<p>

"He's been out there for days, Ziva. Who knows how bad he has it, if he's eating, where he's sleeping. The whole East Coast is suppose to get hit with snow this week. He doesn't even have a coat with him." Ever since Abby found the remnants of Tim's coat in the burned out car, the image of his Probie huddled against the cold in an abandoned box car had haunted his dreams. "He's not trained for this, Ziva."

"I know." She stepped closer and leaned her head against his shoulder just as they were both head slapped.

"Don't you go giving up on him, either one of you." Gibbs continued past them and sat at his desk. "Remember, we've heard from him and he's alive. Now let's find Cvetko's contact so we can get McGee home."

Tony followed him, Ziva at his heels. "How did he sound, Boss?"

"Yes, Gibbs, you never told us. Did he sound hungry or cold?"

Gibbs pinched the bridge of his nose before looking up at them. "How does one sound hungry, Ziva? He said that they safe for the moment. We're just going to have to trust that he knows what he's doing."

-NCIS-

McGee was just bringing the computer online when Marshall Wallace arrived. "I trust that everything is to order?"

"Yes, thank you." Three separate screens scrolled data across them as he worked to fine tune the system.

Wallace had a steely look in his eye. "Hunt those bastards down, make sure no other family went through what we did."

"I will, sir, but first I need to securely mask our location. If they find me before I find them..."

"Understood, son. I'll let you get back to work. Just so that you know, the employees have been informed of Mr. Reynolds' attempted theft and they are aware that you are the one responsible for the recovery. You're quite their hero, since most of that eight million was the employee retirement fund."

"Guess that explains the beaming faces when the computer arrived."

-NCIS-

By morning McGee had a series of false trails and trap doors to stop anyone who was trying to track his backtrace. He was running a final diagnostic on his plan when breakfast arrived along with the doctor and Wallace's person tailor. The doctor was pleased, the tailor had a rack of clothes for alterations and the food was divine.

Deemed recovered enough to lose the IV, Kort threw on the matching silk robe as he joined Tim at the table. Over fresh fruit, pastries and Southwestern style omelets they discussed their strategy for the search. Kort was satisfied that McGee had it well in hand and so he sat back to enjoy the view. While his pajama pants and robe were a deep red silk, Tim's were a rich blue but, like Kort, he had his robe loosely tied around his waist, giving a good view of his chest. The contrast continued as Tim's chest had no body hair, while Kort had plenty to spare. For not the first time since all this had started, Trent wondered what it would feel like to have the younger man under him, his legs wrapped around Kort's waist. Never had he strayed onto that side of the fence, he'd kept it locked away until the day they'd spent at the Blue Moon, now he couldn't get it out of his head.

Tim tried to focus on his food, but his gaze kept creeping up to look at Kort as the desire to run his fingers through the thick pelt of hair on that chest increased. There was more than one reason he'd never come out and told DiNozzo about the blackjack. The second reason was that his gambling buddies all knew he was bi. He dated women because society, his family and his team expected him to, but to Tim McGee there was nothing better than riding a strong man, milking his body for every pleasure possible. Forcing his thoughts back to the task at hand, he gulped down the last few bites and returned to the computer.

When lunch arrived, Tim was deep in his work and didn't even look up when Kort went out into the main room and greeted Dalton and the bellhop. Locking the door behind them, Trent rolled the cart over to the table. "Hey, you ready to take a break and eat?"

"Can't."

Kort didn't recognize anything on the screens, but he wanted McGee to eat while the food was hot, so he cut it into small pieces and carried the plate over to Tim. "It's a salmon flatbread. You should really eat."

Tim didn't even look away from the screens. "Smells good, but I've got an active trace." Kort watched for a minute as Tim busily worked the mouse and the keyboard. Knowing it was the only way to get some food in the younger man, he picked up one of the cut pieces and fed it to him.

They quickly fell into a routine as Kort learned his rhythm of working. The edge pieces were crunchy, but once they were eating further into the bread, the sauce was thicker and Tim would occasionally lick Kort's fingers as he ate.

It wasn't until the last piece that Tim realized what he was doing, just as his tongue circled Trent's fingertip. "Sorry." He really wasn't, and Kort wasn't either as they shared a smile.

By mid-afternoon Kort was getting restless. Up until this case, he thought he was pretty good with a computer, but watching Tim made him realize he was a rank amateur. He'd been content watching McGee work until the younger man started nibbling on his lower lip. The arrival of new clothes and some fresh coffee distracted him long enough to let McGee continue working unmolested.

"Got'em."

Kort was instantly on his feet and leaning over McGee. "Show me."

McGee had found enough that it took a full twenty minutes to even skim the data. "It's not going to be pretty when this goes down."

"That's the understatement of the century. You're sure this goes to the aide's desk and not the senator's?"

Tim smiled as he leaned back against Kort before bringing up another window. "The data only goes to Senator Hawke's aide, but the money..."

Kort saw it. "The money goes straight to the senator."

"I don't know if the aide is helping him or not, but either way he's been set up to be the fall guy. The other players are minor in comparison."

"You've got to love politics." Kort watched as McGee compressed and encrypted the files before embedding them in some landscape photos of a sunset in Florida. Tim next set up a fake email account in the name of Eleanor Vance and titled the emails vacation pictures.

"I guarantee you somebody is watching all the incoming email right now."

"Clever, Tim, very clever. Is there a real Eleanor Vance?" Kort squeezed Tim's shoulders.

"Yep. Of course she's about eighty five years old, doesn't actually own a computer and has never been outside the city of Detroit – but she bakes a mean lemon bar."

Laughing, Kort dropped his forehead down onto the top of Tim's head. "I do not even want to know how you know that. You going to let Gibbs know this is on the way?"

The emails were sent before Tim turned the phone back on.

-NCIS-

His team would say that nothing ever made Leroy Jethro Gibbs jump, but the vibration of the burn phone in his pocket was close. Now that the squad room was secure, he didn't hesitate to open it. A text had him up on his feet and heading upstairs, Tony and Ziva right behind him.

_Tell Vance, Eleanor says hi._

_Enjoy vacation pics_

_Call me._

Gibbs didn't even slow down as he passed Pamela in the outer office. "Check your email, Leon."

Vance looked up, startled even as he was pulling up his email program. Gibbs leaned past him and pointed out the messages. It took Vance a few moments to realize the picture files were too big for the sunsets they were looking at. "He hid something in the pictures. Get Miss Sciuto up here to extract the files."

The Director gladly gave up his chair for Abby to work. It wasn't long before the printer was spitting out pages. As soon as he understood what they were looking at, Gibbs pulled the phone back out and dialed.

"We got it."

_Good. How soon can you move on it?_

Gibbs looked over the lists of places and people. He wanted all of them, not just the one at the top. "Gonna take some time to put an operation in place. I want to take them all down at the same time. Are you someplace secure?"

_Yeah, we're safe._

Tony leaned close, wanting to hear his friend's voice for himself. "You sure? You're not going hungry, are you?" There was a slight laugh before Tim spoke again.

_Don't worry, Tony. We're warm, we're safe and we're well fed. We can wait it out here and continue to monitor their activity._

Gibbs still wasn't comfortable risking a long call. "Twenty-four hours until the next check-in. Keep your head down, all right?"

_Be careful, they're not going to go down without a fight._

Once the call ended, the team started formulating a plan to end the case and bring McGee and Kort back safely.

-NCIS-

"Now what?" Kort continued to rub Tim's shoulders, enjoying the chance to touch the younger man.

Tim was practically purring as he leaned into the strong hands. "Now we wait."

The robe loosened and Kort was able to slide his hands against skin instead of fabric. "You're tense. How about a nice hot shower to relax?"

"Yeah, that sounds really good." Tim stood and decided to take a chance. "You going to join me?"

Kort froze as he stared into the trusting eyes. They'd been heading this direction for forever, it seemed, but this was a big step. He hadn't a clue what McGee had planned, but for the first time in a very long time he was okay with not knowing. "Yes, yes I am."

"Have you ever?" When Kort shook his head, Tim smiled and took his hand, walking backwards to lead him into the large, opulent bathroom. "I'll make it good for you, I promise."

-NCIS-

"We have been betrayed." Cvetko threw his glass against the wall, vodka splattering against the brick. "It is time to retrieve the rockets before something else goes wrong."

"What about the codes?"

Cvetko glared at his man. "We will get them, do not worry. However, no one double crosses me, Nikolai, no one."

-NCIS-

Without a word, Tim slipped the robe off Kort's shoulders before untying his waistband and watching the red silk drop to the floor. Smirking just a little, Trent did the same for Tim, leaving them both naked. Once in the shower, Tim positioned them so the water was not hitting the almost healed wound on Kort's back.

Trent Kort considered himself an expert in seducing women as it was a part of his job far too often. To have the tables turned so completely on him was a new experience and he reveled in it. Soapy hands combed through his chest hair, as thumbs rolled his nipples. Swept away by the sensations, he wasn't prepared when Tim dropped to his knees in front of him. He didn't want to climax so soon and pulled back, gasping.

"Too much."

"This is Vegas, there's no such thing as too much. We're just getting started, so let me take the edge off for you." Without giving him time to argue, Tim swallowed him down and started working him with his throat. It didn't take long before Kort locked his knees and shouted out his completion.

Tim knew his new lover was still recovering, so he turned off the water and grabbed towels off the heated towel rack. Tenderly, he dried Kort's face before patting the rest of him dry and taking him to bed.

If Kort worried about being up for round two, watching Tim kneel over him as he prepared himself took care of everything.

"Damn."

"Like what you see?" Tim bent down, one hand on each side of Trent's head, until they were only inches apart.

Kort reached up and let his hands wander. "Oh, yeah. You always this bossy in bed?"

"Don't want you to hurt yourself, so I'll do the heavy lifting tonight." Tim reached down and rolled the latex sheath into place. Seconds later Kort gasped as the velvety heat surrounded him.


	13. Chapter 13

Franjo Rodin stepped out of the shadows as he heard approaching footsteps. "Martin, you fool, what happened?

"How should I know? I did my part, exactly what you paid me to do. If there was a screw-up it wasn't on my end and I want the rest of my money." The cash from this score was a nice bonus to balance out the measly pension the CIA would provide him, and Gregory Martin had a warm beach already picked out.

"Well, it sure wasn't me."

"I do not care which of you has betrayed me. You will both die for it." Petar Cvetko joined them in the shadows of the warehouse, raising his pistol. Two quick shots from the silenced weapon and two bodies dropped to the ground.

In a nearby surveillance van, Fornell stared at the video feed. The last thing he had expected was for them to turn on each other. The team he sent out could only mop up and arrest Cvetko and the rest of his men. Afterward, Fornell took a screen shot of the shooting and sent it to Gibbs along with the message that the arrests had been made.

-NCIS-

Leon Vance spoke to the Joint Chiefs often enough, but this was the first time he'd been in front of the United States Senate Appropriations Subcommittee on Defense. As he expected, there was quite an uproar when he'd announced the discovery of a plan to sell stolen American rockets to a Chechen arms dealer. Eventually the committee chairman called for a recess to restore order. One senator used the chaos to slip out the door. Vance watched him slip away, then raised his arm up, near his face.

"Hawke is on his way out."

In the hallway, the marble floors were being polished by a janitor with sparkling green eyes. "Got him." DiNozzo shadowed him until Hawke reached the elevator. From there, the senator was under the watch of the exotic beauty operating the elevator.

Ziva covertly watched the sweating man as he tugged at his collar, loosening his tie before the elevator reached his destination. When the elevator opened, he stumbled out. As soon as he rounded the corner, Ziva spoke into her own wrist. "Coming to you, Gibbs."

Hands shaking, Hawke struggled to unlock his door. Once he was inside, he didn't even bother to turn on the light as he rushed into the inner office. He pulled out a briefcase and dumped the contents before pulling open the top desk drawer. Several files were tossed into the briefcase before he started to panic.

"Come on, come on, where is it?" He pulled the drawer all the way out and dropped it onto the desk to better dig through, still not noticing the man in the corner.

"Looking for this?" Gibbs stepped out of the shadows, a ledger in his hand.

Hawke's eyes flickered towards the door as he debated his chances. The arrival of a janitor and an elevator attendant, both armed, seemed to seal his fate and he raised his arms in surrender. Just as the handcuffs went on, Vance arrived with the SecNav, several high ranking officers and the committee chairman.

-NCIS-

Sated and sleepy, the room phone brought McGee back to reality. With Kort next to him, he quietly answered. John was on the other end and came straight to the point. _Turn on the news._

The remote was on the nightstand and seconds later, they were watching the breaking news on ZNN as a well known senator was led out in cuffs by a familiar team. He heard John's voice still on the phone. _They're talking about him selling weapons to terrorists, was he part of it?_

"Yeah, he was."

_Is it over?_

"I'm not sure, but it's getting close."

Kort had been listening to both sides of the conversation and took the phone from Tim. "This is when it gets dangerous because they've got nothing left to lose."

_I understand. We'll be adding extra security tonight just to be safe._

When the call ended, Tim looked over at the clock before laying his head back down on Trent's chest. "I'm supposed to call Gibbs in six hours. We could be back in DC tomorrow."

"Six hours?" Kort rolled them so that Tim was under him. "That's just enough time to show you how much I've learned."

-NCIS-

"I hear congratulations are in order." Marshall Wallace arrived along with Dalton and John Phillips. Ever since the call from John, they'd been expecting a visit so the two agents had cleaned up and dressed in some of the clothes that had been delivered.

"Thank you sir." Tim received a hand shake from Wallace and a hug from his old college buddy. "We couldn't have done it without your assistance."

"It felt good, a lot more satisfying than writing a check. Now, how about a celebratory dinner?"

Right on cue, a stream of food carts arrived and uniformed waiters quickly set up the table to serve four and the Head Sommelier presented his choice of wines.

From the Poached Oysters in a Vermouth Sauce to the Roasted Loin of Lamb with Mint Aioli and Tempura Zucchini Flowers, it was a feast to be remembered. Even though there were few details McGee felt comfortable in telling, Wallace and Phillips hung onto every word they were told about the two agents' adventures.

As they were finishing the white chocolate mousse dessert, Dalton returned, escorting the tailor with another rack of clothing. Before Tim could say anything, Wallace held his hand up. "I understand that you will be returning to your real lives soon, consider these a gift."

"That's very generous, sir, but my boss is quite strict about such things."

"Is he part of the retrieval team that coming for you?"

Kort snorted at the question. "I guarantee you, Papa Bear will be the first one through the door to make sure I took proper care of his cub." Next to him, McGee rolled his eyes, knowing he was right.

Wallace seemed pleased. "Good. I'll bring it up with him personally."

-NCIS-

Smiling, Gibbs looked at the rest of his team. "What do you say we go get McGee?"

"Yes." It had been a long night of interrogations and paperwork and Tony pumped his arm as he stood. "I don't like the idea that he's had to rely on Trent Kort. So, where are they?"

Rather than saying anything, Gibbs just headed for the elevator as the other two rushed to catch up. They went straight to a waiting cargo plane at the airfield across from the Yard. It was only the pilot's announcement that they would arrive at Nellis Air Base at 0900 local time that gave them any clue at all.

-NCIS-

"Good morning."

Tim smiled at the gentle words and burrowed further down in the bedding. "How soon do we have to get up?" Kort pulled him closer.

"Their plane lands in about an hour. Then it's back to reality."

Something in Kort's voice caused McGee to open his eyes to watch him. "You okay?"

"Our realities are very different, Tim. I will certainly understand... well, as the old saying goes, what happens in Vegas stays in Vegas."

Kort made to climb out of the bed, but Tim wouldn't let go. "I'm not ashamed of us, Trent. I may not want to have DiNozzo digging around in my personal life, but I don't have any regrets about what's happened."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." Tim tugged him back down. "Now, I've got two weeks of vacation scheduled for the first of next month, if you're interested."

"Well, I never did get to watch you play blackjack." Grinning, Trent reached under the blankets. There was a lot they could do in fifty-five minutes and he really liked the idea of how much he knew about Tim. More than DiNozzo could ever dream about.

-NCIS-

"You've got to be kidding me." From Nellis Air Force Base it had been a short ride to downtown Las Vegas and the airman pulled into a parking lot right on the strip. "How in the heck did Probie end up here? It must have been Kort's idea."

"We'll know soon enough, DiNozzo." Gibbs strode through the doors, only to be greeted by a distinguished looking older man, flanked by what appeared to be bodyguards.

"Identification, please."

Gibbs raised an eyebrow even as he pulled out his agency ID and badge. Instead of the cursory glance usually received, it was carefully examined before being photographed, along with Gibbs. It wasn't until the taller of the bodyguards received a responding message on his smartphone that they were allowed further inside.

"My apologies, Agent Gibbs, considering the targets your men were after, we have been very cautious."

"Understood." If the thought of a gambling mogul protecting McGee and Kort amused Gibbs, he hid it well. Once they were all inside the large elevator, Tony risked a glance at Ziva, to see his amazement mirrored on her face as well.

After all their time on the run, Gibbs wasn't sure how he expected McGee when he first saw him, but casually drinking espresso and reading the morning paper in a penthouse suite wasn't on the list. Tim looked up as they walked in and saluted Gibbs with his cup.

"Good morning, Gibbs, how was your flight?" When he saw their stunned expressions, Tim waved over at the buffet laid out on the side table. "Help yourselves, there's plenty."

Tony didn't argue and Ziva was only a few seconds behind him while Gibbs ignored the food to come closer to his newly rescued lamb. He looked the young man over carefully. There was a quiet confidence, one that had only simmered below the surface before. Sitting there in well tailored clothes, sipping at his drink, McGee could have passed for a highly paid executive or anything else he put his mind to. While Gibbs marveled at the change, Kort came out of the bedroom, buttoning his cuffs.

"Gibbs, I see you made it."

Eyes narrowing, Gibbs studied the smirking face. "So did you."

Kort sat down, snagging a pastry off Tim's plate, much to the team's shock. "That was our bargain. I made sure McGee survived and you'd let me live." He turned his attention to McGee and smiled approvingly at what he was wearing while Tim fought the urge to roll his eyes. He really hadn't had a choice, all the other clothes, including the suit he'd bought at the pawn shop, were neatly packed away while he was in the shower.

Plate full, Tony joined them at the table. "Man, I want to be a fly on the wall when you try to explain your expense account to the Director. He's going to skin you alive when he sees the bill for this place."

"Don't worry, Agent DiNozzo. My hotel was happy to provide assistance to Timothy and Trent. Besides, this is only a drop in the bucket in comparison to the help he gave us."

"Sounds like you've been busy, McGee." Gibbs had a lot of questions, but the arrival of several bellhops sidetracked him as they loaded a stack of suitcases onto a luggage cart. "Unless you bought that many clothes with your own money, McGee, they're not coming with you."

Marshall Wallace had been waiting for that opening. "Agent Gibbs, a word please." He swept his hand towards the balcony, not waiting to see if the senior agent would follow him.

Back inside, Tony shifted his chair to better watch the show, even though the voices didn't carry back inside.

-NCIS-

Wallace stood at the balcony rail, his natural stance told Gibbs the man had a military background. "I've seen the best and the worst of people over the years, Agent Gibbs. You've got a good man there."

"Yes, I do."

"I work very hard at keeping the riff-raft and the criminals out of my hotel. I have a reputation for running the cleanest place on the strip."

"Then you understand how it would look if my man walked out of here with those full suitcases."

There was no indication that Wallace heard Gibbs at all. "The first thing Timothy did was to uncover a massive embezzlement scheme by my own manager, to the tune of over eight million dollars."

Gibbs let out a low whistle, no wonder McGee had caught the man's attention.

Smiling, Wallace turned to face Gibbs. "He might say that it was necessary to protect what he was working on, but the hundreds of my employees who almost lost their retirement funds probably wouldn't see it that way."

"Sir..."

"He was smart enough to scrape together enough money to buy one set of clothes so he would fit the part before he even walked in here, did you know that?"

"No, I didn't."

"That's what usually trips you feds up, you don't look the part when you walk into a place. Let me tell you something, Agent Gibbs. I buried my boy after September 11th, at least what little they were able to find of him." Wallace paused as he swallowed hard. "I looked into your background, so I know you understand how hard that is as a parent. This week I got a chance to help prevent another family from going through that and that felt very good. At the same time, I also got to know a young man that reminds me a great deal of my son."

Wallace looked very serious. "I couldn't protect my son, and I'll probably never have another chance to help Timothy, so allow me the knowledge that the next time you send him undercover, he will look the part and maybe, just maybe, that will keep him alive. From one father to another, please let me do this for him."

-NCIS-

Tony managed to corner Kort while the other man was refilling his coffee. "McGee is nothing like you, Kort. I hope you didn't try to corrupt him, because if you did..."

"Don't worry, DiNozzo. Your junior partner is just as innocent and virginal as when we started." Trent couldn't quite keep the smirk off his face, which just made Tony glare even harder at him.

Gibbs chose that moment to come back in. "All right, McGee, you can keep the clothes."

"And the computer." When Gibbs turned around, Wallace smiled. "After all, we don't want someone to find traces of his searches on that hard drive. Consider it another donation to your agency."

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Fine, and the computer."

-NCIS-

It was another forty-eight hours before McGee was able to fall into his own bed, exhausted. As he rolled over, he felt something hard under his pillow. Cautiously lifting it, he found a small plastic replica of the casino attached to a copy of two tickets back to Vegas. Smiling, he climbed out of bed and opened the window. A familiar figure was sitting in a car and waved before pulling out onto the street.

* * *

><p><strong>an - This was written as a Secret Santa gift, so it had to have a definite end, otherwise I could have gone on forever :) The sequel starts with someone watching Kort pull out of McGee's parking lot, so there won't be any real gap between the two. I haven't decided if it will be one big story or an entire universe, but I have a great deal roughed out, including how the P2P case affects them, how they're outed to various team members, etc. I'm having a lot of fun with this paring. It will never be my OTP, but it's a solid second. Since my recepient never even bothered to read the story, all the wonderful comments here have meant a lot, so thank you.**

**I'll see everyone here Monday for the next chapter of _Slave of my Heart._**


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